Book the First: War is Like A Wolf
by Trinity Destler
Summary: CATS/LotR Jellicles as a race in Middle Earth centring around Mistoffelees, written in the style of the book with the assorted folk, but he doesn't meet Frodo and Company and it is not necessarily that time period. Misto/Vici, Tugger/Jemi, Munk/Deme
1. Mistoffelees Among the Elves

Book the First:

War Is Like a Wolf, Running From It is Futile.

Chapter One: 

Mistoffelees Among the Elves

"Come hastily Jellicle friend, the sky speaks of coming snow." the elf: Glindor said in that voice like a faint winter breeze through the branches of an evergreen. 

I turned to him, roused from my stupor of thought, he gestured to the path ahead and I nodded taking a deep breath as I walked on, my sword clanking in its scabbard at my side. Overcome with a sense of premonition I regarded the thick foreboding trees that stood like a wall at either side of the path. They made me uneasy, gnarled and rough their trunks and branches a grim melancholy grey-brown, ever reaching out to us, slowing our progress. 

I cast a spell of silence on my sword, masking its mundane clank. My tail twitched behind me, pointing the blade that I'd magically adhered to the tip at the empty path behind us that seemed to close with trees as soon as we were through. 

"How far does this forest stretch?" I asked Glindor in barely more than a whisper, lapsing into my own tongue: Jellicae. 

"As far as the trees grow." he answered in Elvish. 

"You do not know?" 

"I am young and this place is as strange to me as it is to you." his bright green eyes regarded my look of annoyance in amusement. 

"After travelling among the Elves for so many months I was of the impression there was little or nothing you do not know." Glindor laughed quietly, an indescribable music in the sound. Renok, an Elf of the Golden Wood, turned about and eyed us warningly. 

My paws began to feel heavy as the long march of the night caught up with me. I was cheered, notwithstanding, when the treetops were kissed by the first rays of the dawn light. The branches turned a fiery red as if held by a hand of flame, and soon the path was flooded in a liquid golden light that warmed the cool ground and our faces with its cheer. 

"Friends!" Renesong, the female Elf that led us called, "We are weary! There is a hall of my people not far ahead, there we can take a meal and rest in safety from the dangers of the wood!" A faint cheer rose among our company and broke into a merry song of home-coming. 

__

Sing O! Wanderers at home, 

The trail was long and weary 

But home still we have come! 

Sing O! Travellers in safety, 

The journey was fraught and errie 

But sup will welcome us loftily! 

Sing, sing O! 

Have no fear, fill with peace 

Heed no nightly noises! 

But sing, sing O! 

Elvish song, like my own kind was cheery and gay but often filled with legend or meaning. It was good to be among Elves, they were much like Jellicles in many ways and it had been far too long since I had walked among my own people.

We reached the hall in little time and made it bright and home-like with our voices, it was formed from the living forest and once the torches were burning it seemed a magic glade completely cut off from the world. 

I heard snatches of conversation as I passed groups of Elves, I was strange to them and my folk had been only heard of in song and legend. They were discussing the meaning of so many creatures of the ancient tales walking the world again as though they had stepped from the lyrics of a midwife. 

It often amused me, this estrangement, but now when I had no one about me that understood me and knew me for what I was it was disturbing. My sense of foreboding grew with each passing day; the Elves were a kindly race and trusted my kind because of the stories that they still believed from the old times. The day would come when the Elves may no longer be behind me…

Caring not at that moment I was determined to enjoy the food and drink before me, and the company about me. So I sat among them, making merry and speaking light of the impending battles we strove to face.

My thoughts were not my own, notwithstanding, even as Elkwin a tall, fair elfmaid spoke to me in her own glittering tongue of events long passed and heroes long dead. My mind was far off, in a land I had left what seemed like aeons ago. 

I dwell on her that always has presence in my thoughts; my absent ponderings growing and taking form like a rapidly rising sun. She was Victoria, a noble queen of my own race, slim and strong.

She carried a light bosom and boasted round, well shapen hips. He face was angular; a hard nose and sharp chin that softened at her cheeks to form a sweet, oval whole. Her eyes were bright and blue, gleaming with curiosity and innocence: She was beautiful. The robe she took to wearing of pale blue, the colour of the sky on a perfect midsummer's morn, was open showing her coat to be as pure as her spirit, creamy white and unmarred. 

Victoria was sweet, fair and gentle. My paw crept up, grasping the amulet of jade that she had always worn at her throat, bestowed upon me when I left her. She was the reason I was not in company with my own folk, not that I could ever blame her for it. 

On the grim, grey-skyed and cloudy morning that took my tribe to war I remained, refusing to leave Victoria who was very much pregnant with my first young ones. We were very young ourselves, the ball that had joined our souls, our lifebonding, was only the second she had ever attended, my third. 

Now, her belly full and round with kittens for the first time, I could not abandon her with no one left able to protect her. Few of us remained, only those not any use in a fight: the elder Jellicles and a handful of others.

Among these was a companion who had been my friend since she crawled out of the den where she was born: Jemima. She was also expecting her first litter; her mate had gone, thinking that he would be back in time to see them born. I often spared thought for Tugger; he had hidden a noble heart beneath a merry carefree exterior. 

My Victoria was so proud, so very proud to bear my kittens, one could see it in her eyes and she told me so herself many a day. When her confinement began and she was trapped within our home I never strayed from her side for her every waking moment. Hunting for her meals while she slept. 

Not a moment passed when she did not look on me in gratitude, her eyes shinning like twin stars in the torchlight of the otherwise dreary room. She needn't thank me though, I was helpless to her; more in love with her then most would consider possible.

Lifebondings were notoriously rare with great reason, the Oathsworn, (the cat to perform the ceremony and a priest of the Everlasting Cat) went on a spirit walk to Heaviside itself and conveyed with the spirits therein, the Goddesses Bast and Cer especially. If given permission and approval to proceed then in the ceremony you give to your bondmate a piece of your very soul, and they a piece of theirs to you. They will be a part of you even after death; lifebonded truly is forever.

Marry, I digress. 


	2. A Song and a Birth

Elkwind had fallen silent, the firelight playing across her round features while her eyes narrowed in concern,

"Mistoffelees?" she questioned, bringing my attention back to her. I met her gaze for a moment and decided there was too much there to interpret, quickly lowering my eyes to the jade amulet still lying peacefully against my palm. It was not cold as stone ought to be and its strange warmth brought me comfort.

"I apologize for my lack of attention, it is no fault of the tales, or the teller for that matter!" Elkwind smiled knowingly, her emerald eyes softening in their scrutinizing gaze; somewhat satisfied. 

"You said before that your folk are great singers of song, we grow weary of our own legends! Enlighten us as to the ways of such a elusive people." Glindor commanded, drawing up a seat next to the fire, the light making his face ruddy with its glow.

"Indeed! Pleasure us with song Jellicle friend!" Another, elder elf requested, his friendly face weather worn and tanned by the sun's fair rays. She was often unkind to men, but Elves always took her heat gracefully. 

"My song will only seem queer to your ears…" I protested meekly, as was my nature whenever something was asked of me. I was weak to the needs of others and it got me into a great deal of difficulty, this war included. 

"That is why we wish to hear it, among other reasons. Glindor tells us you have a fine voice." I spared a glance for that particular elf that was not entirely amiable.

Still, I was undecided; the happy times of Jellicle song seemed so long ago. I could still hear the praise I myself had often received ringing in my ears. I must admit that once a comrade forcefully thrust me into the spotlight I did enjoy being there for a time. The only sound in the warm hall whilst I decided myself was the crackling of the fire; hasty in its desire to consume the faggots we piled on it. 

I concluded that a real Jellicle tale would clear my head enough to let me rest well that night, rest I would need for the days ahead. 

"Very well friends! I assent!" A mighty cheer rose among the company and I took heart to sing, my voice had always brought me joy but I was, more often then not, too shy to make use of it. Throwing shyness to the wind, I sang a merry song, a song that I had always thought rather silly, if endearing.

__

'Specklespots was an English Cat;

She knew a thing or two.

Often batting at her owner's ear,

For a breach in good cordial manner.

Specklespots had a thousand kits,

And more- so I'm often told;

And her matronly ways will always remain

For we know that her progeny is a millionfold!

She always taught her kittens to bow (or curtsey),

When their respectable elders passed by.

She taught them to laugh uproariously,

When Mr. Bustopher pronounced the oldest of jokes, ho! Sigh!

Speckles was a dear little tabby,

Never cross and seldom for the worse.

She was quite content at the old west Abbey,

But she would be with nuns! Of course!

Specklespots was a terrible singer,

She did her proud race shame!

Often spouting out operatic zingers,

Without quite understanding the game!

Specklespots had a lot of etiquette,

Too much- so the kittens say;

But her knowledge of cricket,

Will always cause the kittens to seek her to play.

And that will never change!

For we know her views on changing,

We are quite sure she doesn't approve!

But little can be done when the games already won,

And the dish has run away with the spoon!

Speckles was a dear little tabby,

Never cross and seldom for the worse.

She was quite content at the old west Abbey,

But she would be with nuns! Of course! Of course!'

Finishing I heard muffled laughter that was soon trumped for attention by applause. I blushed feeling sheepish for singing a song that made little sense and rhymed even less. The surrounding folk obviously cared little for such trivialities and I received many a compliment on my voice before that day was out. Natreel particularly inclining me to learn an old Elvish verse that she thought especially beautiful.

The greenery that made up the roof was masked by a smoky haze and the great, thick trunks of the trees lit up in a friendly way with the high fire and many torches. It were as if the whole world had lain back in welcoming relaxation, throwing caution to the wind and hang the orcs and other beasts of unpleasant nature. 

I felt the gaiety of the song swiftly leaving me as my mind retraced its earlier trail. Victoria's term was of perfectly usual length and nothing untold occurred. One specific night I returned form hunting, bursting with news and anxious to meet with my beloved.

I found the entrance of my home blocked by my mother's outstretched arms,

"Mama? Is she…?" I tossed the food aside, no longer caring one wit for it, my mother: Jennyanydots nodded slowly. I swallowed thickly as she turned and reentered the house, round and long in the shape of a hallowed log and a rusty brown colour. I slumped down next to the door-less entryway and felt my heart racing in my chest almost as fast as my mind raced in my skull. 

Jemima sat beside me with no small effort, she was not yet as big-bellied as she would be but she was quite different from her usual self. That being a rather small queen, even for a Jellicle, sporting a flaming red coat with crossing black streaks. Her big blue eyes were often dazed looking and far away, thick lashes framing them in their wonder; she might be considered quite pretty, in a kittenish, innocent way. 

"What if something happens to her?" I asked quietly of no one in particular, more to the air itself then my friend to whose looks I was helplessly immune. I couldn't follow my own train of thought and everything I grasped was hopelessly muddled with something that had slipped away. 

"She will be fine, she was always very strong." I looked away from her honest expression, anxious for the befuddling experience of waiting to become a father to be over, "Besides, she has dreamt of this moment since the day you met." This caught my attention,

"Truly?" I knew quite well she was trying to distract me, and it was working despite this knowledge. She nodded,

"The first time she clapped eyes on you she turned to me and said, 'I'm going to fall in love with him.' I thought she was joking because…because you're so good looking." I smirked at the thought, ignoring Jemima's compliment, "I know now she said it having already done it."

"Thank-you Jemi, your friendship means the world to me, especially now, more than you could ever know." She smiled herself,

"I am honored."


	3. With Loss Comes Guilt

Excruciating, mind numbing, unending…waiting. 

I wanted to see my bond-mate; it had been too long for me since I had last beheld her beautiful features. My mother wouldn't allow me to enter the birthing room, though I could have eased her pain considerably with magic induced euphoria.

Jenny would have none of it, she believed strongly that the old ways were far richer in wisdom then anything from our time. If she'd listened to reason, I could have informed her that the old times were also far richer in magic and lore. My talents remained unused to aid my sweet Victoria and her cries of pain resounded in my ears in a manner that caused me agony, not because of the pitch or volume, but because she was so tortured to emit the wails. 

She was calling for me, and I wanted desperately to go to her, again I was stopped. I didn't understand why I couldn't be of help or why I couldn't even be there to witness life's greatest miracle. Suppose I was killed in the wars? I would never see this moment again and they held me back! It took every remnant of my self-control to keep my strength in check to not run to her side!

Finally, there was silence. Nothing broke the somber shroud of night that fell over the few assembled company. I swallowed thickly as I stood just inside the low doorway to my home.

"Mama? May I…see her?" the gentle question was answered only by my mother's pushing past me into the night, tears streaming down her usually merry face. This did nothing to quell my nerves, if I had lost Victoria the world had lost me.

My paws trembling in anxiousness I crept silently into the innermost part of the house where it was warmest. The room was the sole one in the interior that was lit, candles were all around, barely more then wicks in pools of wax now. A lantern, normally the only light source for the room, hung from the ceiling blazing merrily.

"Vici? Sweet?" I murmured in question to the air as I walked in, she lay on the bed in a state of total exhaustion, weeping steadily. My heart skipped a beat and for a moment, all I could feel was an enormous rushing relief that she was alive. My glance passed over three still forms on a pile of rags and pelts.

My children. My children were dead before they had lived. There were two queens and a tom, the tom being a complete carbon copy of myself, it made me wonder if he would have likened to me in nature. My mother had boasted to the others that I was an absolute dream to raise the sweetest child a mother could hope for. One queen looked very much like her mother, save a splash of colour polluted her fur, but who knows how she would have looked grown? The second was much like Victoria's father; Munkustrap, though her face appeared to be less serious.

"It's all my fault Misto, something I did, I… I'm horrid, you should leave me to die here!" I passed a paw over my face to clear the tears that run down my cheeks silently and fell onto the peaceful faces of our kittens. I moved to the sleeping pad formed of pelts and rags that Victoria and I shared in our small home; we'd always had an 'affectionate' bondship. I reclined beside her, taking her paw in mine and trying to smile for her.

"I could no more leave you then leave my beating heart. There is nothing anyone can do for our kittens sweet, it is nothing that you could have done, Heaviside has just deterred that it isn't our time." She used her free paw to catch my tears and giggled through her own sobs.

"I don't deserve you." She half laughed, half cried before throwing her arms around my neck and sobbing heavily into my shoulder, "Why did they have to die Misto! I heard them! They lived and then…" my paw caressed her back soothingly and I whispered to her in comfort,

"You cannot fight the will of the Gods. I would give my life to bring them theirs, but it would do no good." I sucked in a deep breath in effort to control myself; "We simply have to let them go… Listen to me, we will see them in Heaviside and they'll never be lonely cold or hungry there." She pulled back to look into my eyes and saw the tears of grief glistening there no matter how I tried to be strong for her.

"They're with my mother there…she will take care of them." I nodded,

"Until we are ready to join them." She looked toward the tiny bodies and back at me,

"I still think it's my fault! Something _I've_ done…Suppose I wasn't careful enough, how can you forgive me for taking them from you?" I cupped her face in my paws, forcing her to look at me,

"You gave them to me." I pressed my lips against hers briefly, "And I love you."

In the warmth of the Eleven hall, I felt the tears prick behind my eyes again, Victoria wanted to hold them…but no one would let her, not even me. I longed desperately for that quiet embrace, feeling the memory of the modest kiss still upon my lips. Bast in Heaviside I missed her! She was insistent on joining me for the journey, but she was far too weak from the birth and there was nothing to be done about it.

I stayed with her for several weeks, reluctant to leave her unwell and mourning for our kits, besides being selfish and not wanting to part from her. A month had passed, we'd spent every moment together, and the kittens were buried.

Their funeral is as clear in my vision now as it was as it unfolded. The moon was full and its unearthly glow illuminated the world strangely clearly. I laid the kits upon the stone slab used as an alter, the naming came first; the long ceremony ending with the pronouncing of each name to the heavens.

"Solstice." I said, laying a paw across the chest of the tiny tom that wore my face, "Athene," I dubbed the queen that was much like Vici and, "Glamouradea." The queen who resembled my father in law was blessed.

I stood back, taking Vici's paw as I began to sing in an ancient form of Jellicae usually reserved for magic spells,

__

'Credain, credain,

Blessed retoth dies ara.

Graymore frawn ra, dis.

Credian, credain,

Clemore weiess brea.

Shaltot reza drees, mat.

Vivat, Life to the Everlasting Cat.'

My voice broke with grief and I was swiftly pulled into a tight embrace by my bondmate, I let the tears fall, looking over her shoulder, I saw the spirits of the little kittens running and playing as they climbed the skies to Heaviside. Sometimes it really was wondrous to be magical. 

A/N: Translation of the funerary song:

Farewell, farewell,

Blessed are the innocents.

The lost are with us, evermore.

Farewell, farewell,

Shed not tears.

Angels dwell in heaven, bliss.

Amen, Glory to God in the Highest.


End file.
